


practice makes perfect

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Practice Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Sappy, i gave myself a cavity, literally it's just fluff and kissing folks, they are thirteen but all they do is kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: Al furrows his brow. “It’s just kissing, Scorpius, not rocket science.”“I’d probably be more proficient at rocket science, and I don’t even know what that is,” Scorpius says mournfully.





	practice makes perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey, @mxlfoydraco gave me a sweet sweet prompt (because she is a sweet sweet human) and this is my response! She wanted best friends practicing kissing in the dark :) I hope you like it!

There’s a knock on one of Al’s bedposts, startling him awake. A quick glance through the curtains reveals Scorpius standing in the semi-dark, a small grin on his face and a pair of silk pyjamas hanging off his thin frame. Al can feel his hair sticking up at the back of his head when he sits up groggily, blinking away the fuzziness at the edge of his vision. He yawns, widely, and then stops abruptly mid-yawn as Scorpius crawls onto the bed and pulls the curtains shut behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Al hisses, his ears turning red. 

There’s a dull flush on Scorpius’ cheeks when he whispers, “Sleeping in here, with you. Why are you still fully dressed?”

Al glances down at himself and is mildly surprised to find his school uniform still on, robes and all. He looks at his feet and blinks; he’s still wearing his shoes. 

“I was really tired,” Al says defensively. “I had detention because of you, remember?” 

“I tried to take the blame for it,” Scorpius reminds him, looking forlorn. “McGonagall didn’t believe it was me.”

Al sighs, reaching down the unlace his shoes. He’s trying not to focus too hard on the extra warmth in the bed as Scorpius wriggles up to lean against the cushions, dropping his slippers out past the curtains before shutting them again. He’s not sure why he feels weird, why he feels a little keyed up and warm at the thought of sleeping next to Scorpius. They’ve done it before, when Scorpius came to stay at his house for the summer, or when Scorpius is having trouble sleeping, or when Al has had a bad day. They’ve done it before, and they’ll probably do it again, even though at thirteen they’re both a little bit too old to be sharing a bed. 

Al finds he doesn’t care. He likes sharing a bed with Scorpius, although he doesn’t want to think about why that is. It’s just a comfort thing, probably. Scorpius is his safe place, his best friend. Sharing a bed is just an extension of that comfort, that safety. 

For some reason, though, tonight feels different. 

“Where were you?” Al whispers, digging around in the dark to try and find his pyjamas, which are tucked under the pillow. “You weren’t in the common room when I got back.” 

“I was in the library,” Scorpius says, budging out of the way and lighting up his wand tip so that Al can see what he’s doing. Al glances up and freezes; their faces are very close together, and he can see every pale eyelash, every fleck of blue in those grey eyes. Each plane of Scorpius’ angular face is illuminated by soft white light, glowing in the dark. He’s never thought of his best friend as pretty before, but that’s what he is.

Scorpius smiles at him, oblivious to Al’s thoughts, and then snorts softly, reaching over to comb long, gentle fingers through Al’s messy hair. 

“It’s all sticking up,” Scorpius observes fondly. “You must have slept on it funny. Aren’t you going to get dressed?” 

“Aren’t you going to keep your voice down?” Al asks, although he knows it’s a lost cause. Scorpius is a bit of a nerd, and a bit shy at times, but he’s also loud. Not on purpose, and not for any reason, he just gets excitable and loses all control of his own volume. 

“I already cast a Silencing spell,” Scorpius says, waggling his wand and making the light flare and die. “Oops.” 

Al is about to fish his own wand out and cast a spell, but Scorpius beats him to it. He whispers something inaudible, and there’s a split second of quiet, and then a cloud of golden butterflies stream from the tip of his wand. Several settle in his hair, and one comes to rest on the tip of Al’s nose, gleaming faintly, wisps of gold light pouring off the lace-thin wings, and then they flutter up to mill around the tops of the curtains. 

Scorpius looks pretty pleased with himself, grinning as he puts his wand down on the bed and tucks his feet under the quilt. The butterflies give the bed a pleasant golden glow, although it’s still quite dark, dark enough that Al fumbles twice as he pulls his pyjamas out from under the pillow. Scorpius makes a big show of covering his eyes with his hands, because he’s a _nerd_ , and Al rolls his eyes, undressing and dressing again quickly. 

He crawls into bed next to Scorpius, making sure the curtains are shut tight. 

“I forgot my book,” Scorpius says, frowning sadly. “I was going to read for a bit.”

“You should be asleep,” Al says. “You know you’ll miss the morning class if you don’t get some sleep soon. What were you doing in the library so late anyway?”

At that, Scorpius blushes a deep red. Al blinks at him slowly, surprised, watching as he goes even redder and averts his gaze. 

“Nothing.”

“You were obviously doing something,” Al points out. He scoots up the bed and leans against the headboard too, tilting his head so he can still watch as Scorpius fiddles with the quilt, looking weirdly guilty. “What is it? What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did, it’s what I saw,” Scorpius says, lowering his voice. “I was looking for a book to help me write my potions essay, and I went around the corner and walked into two people… kissing.” 

He glances up at Al, and the blush, which had faded slightly, comes back with full force. “I didn’t stay long! But I couldn’t help but watch, a little bit. It’s not… I’ve never seen anyone kiss like that before.”

Al can feel a small smile creep along his face. “It’s just kissing, Scorpius. And it’s not like you hid and stared at them for half an hour. I’m sure it’s fine.” 

Scorpius frowns, still nervously twisting the quilt with his fingers. “That’s not the problem. It was really intense, and fast, and noisy. Is… is all kissing like that?”

“Well, I didn’t see it, so I don’t know what you mean, but I’m pretty sure there’s different types of kissing,” Al says, thinking it through. 

“Pretty sure?” Scorpius repeats. Then his face lights up slightly, and he leans in, whispering, “So you’ve never kissed anyone either?” 

Al’s ears burn red, and he shrugs, mumbling something under his breath. Scorpius is still looking at him eagerly though, so he rolls his eyes and says, “No, Scorpius, I haven’t kissed anyone yet. Just don’t tell James. He had his first kiss with a girl in his first year, and his first kiss with a boy in second year.”

Scorpius looks mildly impressed at this, and Al rolls his eyes again. 

“What’s the big deal, anyway?”

“The big deal is that I don’t know how to do it,” Scorpius says. 

Al furrows his brow. “It’s just kissing, Scorpius, not rocket science.”

“I’d probably be more proficient at rocket science, and I don’t even know what that is,” Scorpius says mournfully. “What if we get to the point where we’re about to kiss someone, and we don’t know how to do it? What if we’re really awkward, or we find out we don’t actually like kissing? What if it’s gross and disgusting and sticky?” Scorpius looks vaguely panicked now. “What if I accidentally _bite_ them?”

Al puts his hand up to his mouth as he laughs, muffling his snickers. Scorpius picks up a pillow and swats him over the head with it, which only fuels more laughter. Somewhere in the dormitory, someone rolls over and grunts, and even though they can’t be heard, the both of them freeze. Scorpius puts down his pillow with a scowl. 

“I was being serious,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking for all the world like Aunt Hermione’s grumpy old cat, Crookshanks. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to do it. I don’t know where you’re supposed to put your hands or how to move your mouth or if you’re supposed to make noises. It doesn’t even look like it would feel good.”

“What are you getting at?” Al asks, because he knows Scorpius, and Scorpius never goes on long, panicky rants like this unless there’s some kind of point to it all, a conclusion to come to. 

Scorpius straightens his back, squares his shoulders, and looks Al dead in the eyes. “I think we should practice kissing. On each other.” 

Al almost chokes on his tongue. He spends a few moments coughing and spluttering, waving his hands about theatrically, and then comes to a sudden stop. “Kissing? Each other?”

Everything is hushed, quiet, dim. The butterflies make no noise as they flutter their wings, so it’s just the quick sound of their breathing, barely audible. Light flickers over Scorpius’ face, followed by shadow, and although he looks calm, Al can see the nervousness reflected in his eyes. 

Scorpius bites his lip. Al watches him do it, his heart tripping over itself. Now that the idea is out there, it’s all he can think about. 

“Just to practice,” Scorpius says. “This way, we won’t be nervous when we do it for real, because we’ll already have done it. See?”

“I guess,” Al says. “Won’t it be a bit weird? After?”

“We won’t let it be weird,” Scorpius says decisively, nodding his head. Al can tell he’s already decided that this is the best course of action, and when he gets like this, Al is usually dragged along for the ride. Not that he actually wants to say no here. 

“Alright,” Al says. “How do we do this?”

Scorpius’ mouth drops open, and he stares, startled. He obviously wasn’t expecting Al to say yes quite so easily. Knowing Scorpius, he probably has a bullet-point list somewhere of all the reasons why this is a good idea. Al snorts, reaches over to gently close his mouth for him. Scorpius snaps it shut, pink-cheeked, and attempts a half-hearted glare. 

“Everything I’ve read suggests that it’s all to do with instinct,” Scorpius says, and Al is a nice person who loves his best friend, so he doesn’t laugh at Scorpius reading about this, researching it. “So, maybe we just—”

He leans forward, suddenly, and pecks Al on the lips. It’s a quick kiss, barely even there, just a dry press of mouths, and Al almost jerks back in surprise, hands fluttering up into the air. 

It’s stupid, because it was barely even a kiss, but he can feel his heart thundering in his chest. Scorpius looks equally as flustered, gaze flickering everywhere. 

“That’s not quite what I expected,” Scorpius says. His voice is a little hoarse, and it shocks Al how much he likes it. 

“Do you want to try again?” Al licks his lips, and Scorpius’ eyes flicker down to follow the movement. He nods, his eyes a little darker, and Al’s pulse quickens. 

They lean in slowly this time, and their noses bump. They both draw back, and Al laughs, a hushed, quiet sound in the dark. 

“Maybe just… like this.” He puts the pads of his fingers against Scorpius’ jaw, tilting his head slightly to the left. He’s nervous, and not quite sure what to do with his other hand, but all of that melts away as he brings their lips together. His hand slides up to cup Scorpius’ face, his thumb grazing delicate skin as they kiss softly. It’s tender, sweet. Scorpius tastes of mint, a little strong and overpowering. Al is dizzy with the scent and the feeling when he draws back, barely far enough to see Scorpius’ eyes flicker open. He doesn’t know when he shut his own eyes, but he opens them now, taking a deep, steadying breath. 

“Okay?” he murmurs, and Scorpius nods before leaning back in. 

This kiss is a little faster, a little harder, but no less tender. Hands slide into Al’s hair, cup the back of his neck as he gets dragged forward, mouths sliding against each other. Scorpius makes a soft little noise in his throat that sets Al’s heart racing. He tilts his head a little further and kisses him deeply, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. Scorpius makes another little noise, a gasp, and draws back again. 

He looks a little wild, his eyes huge and his mouth slightly parted, breath coming in quick little pants. Al isn’t much better. His lips feel swollen and red, and his hair is sticking up again, Scorpius’ fingers still twisted in the strands. 

“That was...” Al’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “Good? It felt good, I mean. I thought it was good.”

Scorpius nods quickly, a little dazed. His mouth is really, really red. “It was nice.” 

Al leans back, affronted. _“Nice?”_

Scorpius bursts into giggles, cackles, really. He rocks back and collapses against the pillows, little laughs bursting out of him while Al simply stares at him. 

“It was just nice?” he repeats, when Scorpius has a hold of himself. Scorpius rolls his eyes and reaches up to tug Al down, fitting their mouths together after only a slightly awkward pause. He kisses him lazily, soft noises mingling in the dark, and Al can barely breathe. 

“More than nice,” Scorpius murmurs, when Al can breathe again. “I get what the big deal is now.” 

He lets go of Al’s collar and pats the bed beside him, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Al settles down against the covers, a sill grin on his face. He feels strangely light, buoyant, like he could float off into the night. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to sleep tonight. 

Lazy seconds drift past slowly, and the butterflies begin to fade from view, turning to golden wisps that dissipate with each passing breath. Al tucks his head into Scorpius’ shoulder to hide his smile. 

“We can do that again sometime, right?” Scorpius asks quietly. His hand finds Al’s in the dark, and he tangles their fingers together in a loose hold. His palm is warm, and Al squeezes his hand, blushing slightly. Of all the things to make him blush tonight, holding hands shouldn’t be on the list. 

“Yeah, yeah we can,” Al says, turning to face him on the pillow. His face cracks into a grin, and he adopts a solemn voice, “After all, you didn’t get to take notes.” 

He feels no regrets, even when Scorpius whips the pillow out from underneath their heads and hits him in the face with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment/kudos on your way out if you did, or come say hey @thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr, I'd love to hear from you! And I take prompts on there too :) Thank you very much!


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